Compromise
by Amieva
Summary: Sequel to Scam. 5 years later, what happened to them? Chapter 5 - Arriving in the Capitol City. How they spend their first night.
1. John is not a cleaningguy

"You knew about this all along, didn't you!" she screamed in an accusing tone.  
  
He just stood there, stunned. "Please, listen to me-"  
  
"NO! I HATE YOU! YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS HE WAS! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!"  
  
He stared after her. He wanted to chase her, but there was no way he could catch up. She seemed to be floating away, as those heart wrenching words echoed all around him.  
  
"I never want to see you again!"  
  
"No!" St.John shouted into the dark. He sprung up from his sofa with his body covered in a cold sweat. It was that damn dream again. No. It wasn't a dream. It was a memory. Why couldn't he stop thinking about her?!  
  
~*~  
  
Another bloody night spent on the couch. Damn, his back hurt like a sonuvabitch. He and Amara had another fight. Apparently, spending all day at home, writing his 'little stories' and earning themselves a living wasn't adequate for the Latin princess.  
  
Pheh. That's what she was. A princess. In his last book, the princess was an evil heartless creature that wanted to separate the lovers and take the poor musician back to her castle to play his lyre only for her. There were too many stories where the princess was the protagonist. In his tales of love and betrayal, royalty wasn't held in positive light. That's how he built up his reputation as an unconventional writer. Even the critics gave him mixed reviews. His stories were wildly popular, though he tended to offend and upset his readers (lol! Kinda like Scam!)  
  
What was it that Amara had said to him? He's too selfish? He doesn't try hard enough? So buying her a new fur coat for Christmas, along with the quartz pendant for her 20th birthday, plus more pairs of shoes than he could count, was selfish? He scoffed at his computer screen. She was right about one thing. He couldn't be bothered anymore. He was getting fed up with catering to her every whim, without anything in return.  
  
He had ten pages left to print off for his newest manuscript. It was deadline day. He had until 2pm to get the package in to his publishers, or they would terminate their agreement. That wouldn't be good at all, if he wanted to continue paying his rent.  
  
It was all her idea to move in with each other. "It just makes sense!" she had said. They had been dating for three months and she was already planning their wedding.  
  
It just makes sense. That was the line she used when she had asked him out. SHE asked HIM. "It just makes sense, since we both have similar powers! I can make the fire, and you can control it!"  
  
In retrospect, that had to have been the dumbest thing John had ever heard in his life. He only agreed to going out with her because she was a babe. He never intended to let it get this far, but she just kept on pushing and pushing, and he couldn't say 'no'.  
  
They hadn't slept together for weeks. Not that John really cared. He never felt motivated to do much when it came to her anyway.  
  
Two pages left to go, and his printer ran out of ink. Grumbling irritably, he pulled his desk drawer open and grabbed a new cartridge. It was the last spare. He would have to make a stop at the computer supply store on his way to the office. He replaced the dry cartridge and tossed it in the basket at his feet. "Take that, printer gremlins." he laughed maniacally at his little joke.  
  
The last pages were printed off, and John gathered the stack of paper together and straightened them out. This was it - the final draft of his latest work. He had personally gone through all 200 pages and made every correction necessary. This was his masterpiece. After this book was published, he would never have to work another day in his life.  
  
That's what he had said about the last two as well, and he was still a slave to his muses.  
  
He tied the little leather strings on his portfolio and double checked to make sure he had everything with him. Satisfied he wasn't forgetting anything, John went to get his coat.  
  
Something jingled and brushed up against his leg. John smiled at his ginger tabby. "You hungry, li'l fella?" he bent down and scratched the cat's chin, causing him to purr affectionately and nip at his finger. "Of course you're hungry, ya lazy freeloader." he joked. "Sparky, my friend, one of these days, I'm going to find you a girlfriend that'll put you in your place."  
  
The cat 'mrow'ed quizzically, then proceeded to weave himself around John's legs. Sparky was John's only real companion since he moved to Boston with Amara. She was usually off at Yale, or Harvard or wherever it was she was going to University, so John was left home alone a lot. He had found Sparky in a tree one day while he was walking through the park. He took to the ginger haired tomcat immediately. They were best friends.  
  
John slipped his jacket on and grabbed his portfolio, careful not to spill its contents. It would suck if he had to pick up 200 pages of loose paper and try to put it all back in order. He gave Sparky one last pat on the head and left their apartment to go downtown to the publishers.  
  
He would walk slowly. He had two hours until the manuscript was due.  
  
~*~  
  
John hopped up the front steps of the building and started walking through the revolving doors. He liked those revolving doors. They went round and round and round and round and he was getting dizzy... the room was spinning. He was thankful he hadn't eaten lunch yet. One of the elderly ladies at the reception desk pulled him out and scolded him for playing around in a business establishment. He smiled and pecked her on the cheek.  
  
"G'day to you too, Margerie."  
  
"oohhh..." she shook her finger at him. "You know I can't stay mad at you, Johnny." she pinched his cheek, "one of these days, your sweet Australian toosh is going to get you into trouble."  
  
He took her hand away from his face and held it to his chest. "Marge, I'm flattered, luv, but what would Bill say?"  
  
"Oh my!" she hooted and slapped his chest playfully. "Where did you learn to be such a charmer, you scallywag!"  
  
John shrugged. "Old friend taught me a few things."  
  
She regained her composure. "Enough of this dilly-dally. What is it today, honey? Drop-off or pick-up?"  
  
"Drop-off. Got the new book done and ready for mass-printing."  
  
"Good for you! I'll take this up to Mr. Jameson right away." she took the thick folder off his hands. "You want something to drink while you wait?"  
  
"Coffee would be great, Marge. Thanks!"  
  
She pointed out the coffee machine, then disappeared in to the elevator. John filled a Styrofoam cup with piping hot java and seated himself on an armchair in the corner. There was a teenaged girl with long brown hair and glasses seated across from him. He smiled at her and picked up a magazine.  
  
"Are you a writer?" she asked nervously.  
  
He put down the magazine and regarded her with question. "No." he lied. "I'm the cleaning guy." he added sarcastically.  
  
"Oh..." she looked disappointed. "I'm a writer." she pulled a book out of her satchel and admired the front cover. "I'm new at it. I've written a few short-stories. Nothing big." she sighed. "I wish I could be like J.A Micheals, though..."  
  
John stiffened at hearing his own pen name. "Oh really?"  
  
"Yeah! He's the best!" she showed him the novel she held in her hands like treasure. "Have you read any of his books?"  
  
He didn't dare tell the girl that HE was J.A Micheals. "Er... no. I heard he was a real jackass."  
  
She snarled. "Those moronic critics wouldn't know art if it danced infront of them naked wearing a sign that said, 'Lookit me! I'm art'! He is NOT a jackass! Nobody could write like THIS and be a jackass!!"  
  
John smiled. He knew he wasn't very popular with the critics, but if he had at least one fan like this in every major city in the United States, that was all he needed. She continued to rant, but John blocked her voice out.  
  
At last, Marge returned and interrupted the girl's tirade.  
  
"And that stoopid English teacher said I'd never amount to anything-"  
  
"They want you upstairs now, Mr. Micheals."  
  
The crazy girl stopped breathing. She resembled a fish out of water (glub glub glub).  
  
As John walked past the elderly receptionist, he whispered in her ear, "you enjoy that too much, you know that?"  
  
She grinned. "You weren't going to let on." she attended to the shocked girl as John walked off. He heard Marge say, "you need anything, dear?" as the elevator doors closed.  
  
He pressed the button that would take him to the 10th floor, the Romance department. He leaned against the wall of the elevator, mulling a few things over.  
  
Romance. PAH! He was pretty good at writing the shit, for someone who didn't know the meaning of the word. At least, that's what some of his reviews indicated. People read his stories of torrid gothic fairytales. He thought back to the girl in the waiting room. She looked about 16 or 17 years old! She was way too young to be reading books with such content! But she idolized him. That felt pretty good - to have loyal fans.  
  
The elevator stopped at the 5th floor and a young woman stepped on. John nodded a friendly hello. The woman blushed and started playing with her auburn hair. She was flirting with him!  
  
John rolled his eyes. He wasn't unaware of his looks. He knew he was attractive, he just didn't flaunt it as much as people would expect.  
  
His vibrant orange hair had calmed into a strawberry blond. It was still moppy, but fairly well kept. At some point during his life, he had decided to grow sideburns. They drove Amara insane, saying they were tacky; John used them as passive resistance.  
  
His eyes were still bright blue, though they didn't have that spark of life they once did. He blamed growing up for that.  
  
He had a fairly athletic build. He still worked out habitually, like back during his Acolyte days. He had grown a lot! That was amazing. Sometime between his 19th and 20th birthdays, he shot up at least 6" in height. Remy and Peter would have a heart attake each if they saw the 'little man' now!  
  
The elevator dinged at the 10th floor, and John stepped off, trying to ignore the hungry look in the young woman's eyes.  
  
Luckily, he was able to go around a corner and escape her gaze. Mr. Jameson's office was at the end of the hall.  
  
~*~  
  
Mr. Jameson set the folder back down on his desk. John stood before him, waiting for whatever it was that Jameson had to say to him.  
  
"John-"  
  
Oh god! Something was wrong. They changed their minds! They hated it!  
  
"-excellent work, as usual."  
  
Phew!  
  
"As a matter of fact, this has to be your best work yet."  
  
"Well, thanks, Mr. Jameson. I'll write you into the dedication." he said jokingly.  
  
Mr. Jameson laughed lightly. "Yes, well that isn't necessary, your dedication is already long enough. As a matter of fact, we're just amazed you made your deadline." 'We' meaning the Royal 'we'. "And since you've become somewhat of an asset to our company, we're going to celebrate your new book down at the local pub!"  
  
~*~  
  
And so they went. *insert banjo music* deedle-dee!  
  
~*~  
  
Mr. Jameson was wasted and crying to the sympathetic bartender about his ex-wife. John checked his watch. 4:30. He needed to get home and feed Sparky.  
  
He paid for the one beer he drank, left a small tip for the bartender and headed home.  
  
~*~  
  
John pushed the door of his apartment open and tossed his keys onto the little table. He peeled his jacket off and hung it up, then kicked off his shoes. "Amara! I'm back!"  
  
His announcement was answered with silence. That was strange. Amara's last exam was after lunch... she should've been home, unless she had decided to go celebrate with her classmates. That must've been it.  
  
"Sparky!" John opened the cupboards in their small kitchen and pulled out a can of cat food and a spoon. "Sparky, get in here, you lazy bunger!" he called in irritation. That stupid cat probably got locked in the bathroom again. As he went to go free his friend, something neon-pink caught John's eye. There was a note stuck to the refrigerator. It had Amara's neat and disciplined script.  
  
He ripped it from the fridge and scanned it. He stopped in shock and started reading it again from the beginning, thoroughly.  
  
Dear John,  
By the time you get this note, I'll be at the airport or halfway across the country. I feel like we've grown apart, John. We don't talk anymore, and whenever we do, all we do is fight.  
So, I've packed all of my things and I'm waiting for the taxi to get here. I'm going back to Nova Roma. My parents will be happy to see me home.  
If you don't come after me, I'll know it's because you don't love me. I'm sorry, I wanted this to work.  
Amara  
  
(-_- dear lord... It's actually a 'dear john' letter. Do we not see the irony in this?)  
  
John scoffed. She left him! It was only a matter of time, he supposed. He thought back to their last fight.  
  
They were going out for dinner, and Amara had purchase a new perfume to wear. She smelled of strawberries. John just about blew up on her. He exclaimed that the scent didn't suit her, and that it made her smell like compost. She screamed at him, calling him an insensitive ass, and slammed their bedroom door in his face.  
  
It was a stupid fight, but it was just the last straw fir their relationship.  
  
"SPARKY! Where the HELL are you, you -" he flipped the note over.  
  
-P.S: I took the cat with me.  
  
"THAT BITCH!"  
  
~*~  
  
American beer was so weak. John downed another shot of whiskey. He had every reason to get shit faced. The bartender tried to be consoling, but John could really care less.  
  
"So how long was ya livin' t'gether?" he asked as he wiped another glass dry.  
  
"Six months." he answered flatly.  
  
"Oh... that's harsh, eh?"  
  
John scowled. "Tell me about it, mate! The bitch took my cat! I sure miss the furry bastard."  
  
The bartender looked at him strangely and went to go mend another broken heart. Mr. Jameson was still there.  
  
John picked up another shot, but a manicured hand stopped him.  
  
"Buy me a drink, sailor?" a husky female voice asked seductively.  
  
John glared at the woman keeping him from his alcoholic companion. "Bugger off, shiela. I don't pay for sex." he snarled.  
  
She slid onto the stool next to him and placed her hand over his glass. "I'm not looking for sex, darling. I'm here to make a proposal."  
  
He yanked the shot away from her, careful not to spill the glass's contents. "I'm not interested in buy drugs either, if that's what you're thinkin', love."  
  
She smirked at him maliciously. Her eyes flashed yellow for a second - wait a tick! Yellow?!  
  
"You?! Mystique-"  
  
"Awww... you remember me. I'm touched, Pyro."  
  
There was a reason John hated the blue bitch so much, and it wasn't because she made people write things they didn't want to write (*shakes fist*). It was because of Mystique, John was homeless for a year before he was forced to live with the X-Men. It was because of Mystique, Wanda... "What the hell do you want?!" he growled, downing his shot.  
  
Mystique grinned in triumph. "In a few seconds, my Australian friend, that won't matter..."  
  
"Wha-" John felt like someone pulled a sack of cotton stuffing over his head as he swayed in his seat.  
  
He didn't even feel his head hit the floor.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaack! WHEEE!!! Aren't we all estatic?! *wiggles around in glee*  
  
... No? ...  
  
Oh... Okay. Fine. I'll just... go back to my hovel now... PEONS! Just kidding! SQUEEE!!! Oh, it feels good to be writing again. The epilogue in Scam was... woah. I don't know how to describe that experience. I was sitting in Math class, finishing up a test then writing out the end of the last chapter. Then I was like... 'hrmmm.... I need an epilogue'. So I wrote one... and I was literally shaking by the time I was finished. I tell ya, Math, boredom and angst do NOT make a happy party. *sniffle* poor John... I put him through so much...  
  
Oh, on another note: (this is mostly for UndyingImmortal, if they're reading) It is highly unlikely that I'll be putting any random interludes in this one. BUT I am working on a side story that is soley random hilarity and torture. Ever seen that show, Teens Dating? Well, I don't know if it's broadcast in the USA, but I've seen it a few times up here in the Great White North (j00t! Go Canada). Basically, they set up two teens and send them off on a blind date and watch them. It's hilarious to laugh at some of the people on that show.  
  
Anyroad, I'm rambling.  
  
May the Glomp Gods smile upon you!  
  
Buh-Baiz! 


	2. Wanda is not a fish

Ooookay. I am soooo sorry for the shortness of this chapter. I tried, but this is all I could get. Never fear. though! Chapter 3 is MUCH longer! Believe me, I've already gotten it all written out, I just need to type it up.  
  
YEEE! 11 reviews for chapter 1!!!! That makes me so happy! A big Thank-You goes to all of you who read Scam and came back, and to those of you who haven't read Scam, GO DO IT NOW! ... Go...  
  
I mean it....  
  
Go.  
  
I foolishly forgot to put in my disclaimer in the last chapter... How could that have happened?  
  
DISCLAIMER: Sorry, I just kinda-  
  
Amieva: BACK TO WORK! *whiplash*  
  
DISCLAIMER: Eep! Amieva doesn't own Evolution OR St.John's socks, although that would be awesome.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Just looking at her, you couldn't tell if you were seeing Wanda Maximoff, or a young Magda Lehnsherr. Her raven hair fell just past her shoulders. Her skin was still pale, like when she was a teenager, but held a slight tan from spending time out in the sun.  
  
She stabbed her cigarette butt out in the ashtray and stood up to leave the cafe.  
  
Smoking. She had started smoking not long after she moved in with Mystique and her Brotherhood. It was an escape. A reason to get away from the boys and spend some time alone. Wanda always pushed people away, even her own brother. She hadn't even had a steady boyfriend since... well, she had had her share of one-night-stands, that was for sure. She didn't want to invest any emotion in anybody. Life had taught her that it would only end in tears.  
  
That was why she got Morgan. She made a great body guard. She hated everyone except her mistress. Wanda smiled. She missed her kitty.  
  
She had traveled to Transia to get in touch with her roots. She had tracked down a woman named Bova. Bova was her mother's nanny and best friend in her childhood. Now, she was an old woman who midwived for a band of Romany-speaking Gypsies.  
  
Wanda clearly remembered her meeting with the old matron.  
  
~*~  
  
Her large doe-eyes gave one a sense of comfort and security. She was calm and nurturing toward Wanda, treating her like one of her own children.  
  
"Your mother was the most sought after girl in the band. Everyone loved her dearly." Bova reminisced in a heavy European accent. "She was a little spark of light during dark times. You look so much like her, my little Magda."  
  
Wanda blushed slightly, feeling tears form in her throat. It was her fault that Magda was dead. She took another sip of the herbal tea Bova had given her.  
  
"She had many men lined up at her caravan, seeking her hand. But she turned them all down. She was 'waiting for true love' as she would say. I told her many times to marry while she was still young, or she might end up like me - old and looking after everyone else's children. Then one day," she sighed sadly, "that white-haired devil came and took my sweet Magda away from me." She dabbed her eye with an old handkerchief.  
  
Wanda leaned over and patted her shoulder. "Do you hate my father?"  
  
Bova sniffed and put on a forced smile. "No. I could never hate Eric. He loved Magda more than his own life, and she him. Oh, the two of them were so happy."  
  
"How did they meet?" all of these questions had plagued Wanda since childhood. Her father never talked about his wife. Wanda wanted to know everything about her mother.  
  
"They met while we were traveling. We stopped the caravan and decided to set up one of our shows. We had magician, jugglers, strong-men, sword swallowers - your mother was a fortune-teller. She had her own booth. Eric came to her one night to have her read his cards. He must've been unsatisfied with the results, because he came back the next night as well, and the night after that. He came to see her every night we were there.  
  
"He joined our caravan, using his 'talents' to wow audiences.  
  
"He married Magda within the year and swept her off to America to raise a family."  
  
Wanda set her mug down on the coffee table. "And the rest is history." she fought back her tears. "Thank you so much, Madame Bova." she whispered.  
  
She took Wanda's hand. "Oh no, dear. Please call me Bova, or nana, if you wish. I should be thanking you, Wanda. It is a great gift to me to see Magda's beautiful child, all grown up and healthy. It gives me strength in my old bones. When you walked into my caravan, I wanted to dance with joy, to see my Magda again."  
  
"Nana..."  
  
Bova shook her head and released Wanda's hand. She opened a wooden box next to her worn out old sofa. She produced a rectangular package wrapped in a red scarf. Bova placed the bundle in Wanda's lap and motioned for her to open it. "They were your mother's. She asked me to keep them for her until she came to see me. I've waited almost 30 years, keeping them locked away."  
  
Wanda untied the scarf and watched in awe as a deck of cards fell into her lap. "What are these?" she examined a picture of a heart with three swords sticking through it.  
  
"They're your mother's Tarot cards. They're of no use to me. She would've wanted you to have them."  
  
Wanda sniffed and smiled sadly. "Thank you."  
  
~*~  
  
Bova was the kindest woman in the world. Her face reminded Wanda of a cow, but she would NEVER tell Bova that. Yeah, that would've been nice of her! "Hey Bova, thanks for telling me about my late mother. Oh by the way, you look like a cow!"  
  
She would be sure to keep in contact with her.  
  
She boarded the plane that would take her back to New York. It would be a 12 hour flight from Transia. It was fortunate that Wanda had her favourite novel handy for the trip home.  
  
'The All Consuming Darkness' was by far THE best book ever. Wanda opened it to where she had left off. Winona Masters was about to stab her lover through the heart upon realizing that he was conspiring with her father against her. She could relate to the characters so much, it almost scared her.  
  
The stewardess came up and interrupted her reading. She was so startled, she almost made her armrests melt, but luckily Wanda was able to calm herself before any damage was done.  
  
"Would you like anything off the cart, miss?" she asked sweetly.  
  
Wanda shook her head in dismissal and went back to her book.  
  
After two hours of reading, she started to feel her eyes droop. She succumbed to the sleep gremlins and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.  
  
~*~  
  
When the plane touched down and let the passengers disembark, it was dark out and raining heavily. Wanda sighed, searching for her luggage on the revolving thingy. This was to be expected for EARLY spring. But wasn't this supposed to end in April? It was the second week of May for cheese sakes!  
  
Because of the heavy downpour, Wanda would have to wait until the next day for her ride home to show up. Unless she wanted to call a cab and risk drowning on the way to Bayville... Nah... Tonight wasn't a good night to chance death. She had a feeling something was in store for her when she got home.  
  
Wanda was just hoping that Toad wasn't involved.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
YAY! It's done! I'm not totally sure about Time Zones and shite, considering I don't travel much and have never even ventured out of this province before... but nyeah. I don't care, it's fiction, I can do whatever I want. Heck, if I wanted to make Toad a model for Chip and Dale's, then I bloody well would, but since I don't *shudder* I won't.  
  
Ewww! Burn the mental image from my head!!!  
  
May the Glomp Gods smile upon you!  
  
Buh-Baiz! 


	3. Homecoming

**SHOCK AND WONDERMENT! I'm still alive!!!  
And so is this story! HA HA! I'd like to personally thank all 16 of you who reviewed. That makes me extremely giddy. And I'd like to personally appologize for the horrendous wait. -.- I have a list of excuses, but I respect you guys too much to start into it. Basically, I'm a horrible fanfic-mother, and deserve to be punished**

**But I have started chapter 4 already! Doesn't that make you happy?**

**No?**

**Get on with the story, peons!**

**Disclaimer: Amieva doesn't own X-Men, and you'd be a fool to think otherwise.  
Well, you'd be a fool, but Amieva would think you the most wonderful person on the planet.**

* * *

"Is it dead?" 

"No. Geeze, Todd! Leave him alone already! HEY! Give him his wallet back!"

"John Alur... Alderice... Allurdyce... What the heck? Saint John? That's crazy, man! We got us a saint layin' dead on our couch!"

"Todd! Gimme that!"

John moaned and cracked one eye open. The light stung his retinas.

"OW! Led doe ob my tondue, Lanth!"

He turned his head slightly, feeling like there was a bomb going off in his brain. "Holy shit..." he grumbled, seeing two grown men chasing each other around the room. They seemed to have heard him and immediately stopped running.

The one with a gray tinge to his skin looked at John in shock. "You're alive, yo?"

"Unless this is Hell's idea of a sick joke." he replied, rubbing his temple and trying to relieve some of the pain in his throbbing head.

The tall muscley man with long chestnut hair snatched something out of the grotesque man's hands. "Knock it off, Todd. Grow-up, you're 22 for fuck's sakes!" He tossed the leather object to John on the couch.

John inspected the object and discovered that it was none other than his wallet. I.E, his sole possession for the time being. "Thanks mate." he struggled to sit up, but something jumped onto his chest and growled menacingly.

The man named Todd shrank away in fear. Even the tall guy took a step back. Apparently, they were afraid of what was glaring at John.

A pair of big yellow eyes surrounded by long black fur stared at him, not blinking. John gulped. Puss looked pissed. "Hello li'l fella. What's your name?"

"Careful, man." Todd warned. "That's Satan herself."

John foolishly didn't heed his warning and rached out to stroke 'Satan's' soft fur. She hissed and but his finger. "Shi-! I think she drew blood!"

"We tried to tell you." the tall guy tsked. "That's Morgan. She hates people."

"Yeah." Todd laughed, showing his crooked yellow teeth. "You shoulda saw the scratches she gave Lance when they first met!"

Lance growled. "I wouldn't be laughing, Toad! YOU'RE the one scared of being in the same room as her!"

Todd stopped laughing immediately.

Morgan jumped off John's chest and sauntered out of the room, being sure to bare her claws at Todd on her way by.

John did a sweep of his surroundings. Torn wallpaper, tattered furniture, broken television, green couch... John sat bolt upright. He was laying on THE green couch! A wave of pain kindly reminded him why he hadn't sat up in the first place. "Shit! Where the Hell am I?!" he demanded.

Lance crossed his arms over his bulky chest, staring down Todd, who looked like he was going to say something snarky. "A boarding house. Bayville, New York."

"Boarding house?! Why the- wait... Did you just say we're in Bayville?"

Lance just didn't understand why this guy was getting excited. It was only Bayville. It wasn't like they were getting launched into outter-space or anything.

John's mind was racing, and it hurt like hell, so he lay back again. If he was in Bayville, then maybe...

"I don't get it! Why would Mystique have to kidnap you? The rest of us came willingly." Lance exclaimed.

John shrugged. I guess she likes drugging me. So... what are you guys doin' here anyway?" He was hoping they might mention something. He wouldn't ask about her directly. He didn't want them to suspect anything.

"We are the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants." Lance said proudly.

John's heart sank. Brotherhood. Brother. All guys. She wasn't here.

Todd hopped over to the couch. "Move it, man!" he shoved John off with surprising strength.

"What the-"

"My cuddle bumps is comin' home, and I gotta clean the living room!"

John looked pleadingly to Lance, who just shook his head. "If you REALLY wanted to impress her, Toad, why don't you try bathing?"

Todd shuddered. "Eww... soap."

The Australian novelist had noticed that the goad-man was rather raunchy. He got up off the floor, watching Todd rearrange the cushions on the couch. "Cuddle bumps?"

"The only woman on the team, other than Mystique. Toad's obsessed with her. It's just too bad that he can't take a HINT!" he spat the last word directly at Todd.

In response, he stuck out his long green tongue at him, and continued to wipe the dust off the coffee table with his shirt sleeve. "You're just jealous 'cause YOUR girlfriend dumped you and ran off-"

Lance growled, and the room began to shake. Bits of plaster fell from the ceiling and threatened to smite the room's inhabitants. John tried to dodge the debris as best he could, but he was having a difficult time of it, because he was feeling groggy. He fell back and landed on his rear-end.

The floor began to shake even more violently as thunderous footsteps approached. A ridiculously obese man with no hair and a blonde goatee rushed... er... stomped hastily into the living room. "Guys! Knock it off! They're back!"

The room stopped shaking suddenly, and Lance, Todd and the fat man all looked at each other in panic.

"I-think-Toad-pissed-off-Lance-again." Wanda looked up from her book to see her home rattling in the distance.

"He gets what's coming to him." she replied boredly.

Pietro sighed. "Y'know, you haven't said two words to me since you got back!" he whined. "Are you still pissed about having to sleep in the airport? 'Cause, it's a little too dangerous to be out driving in that kind of rainstorm!"

She closed her book and glared angrily at her twin. "No, I'm just feeling jet-lagged, okay?! Sorry I'm not that chatty! Just let me get a few hours sleep. Then I"ll tell you all about my trip."

Pietro sighed as he pulled into the lane. "The-house-is-gonna-be-a-little-crowded."

"What? Did Fred's powers... expand, or something?"

"No. Mystique-brought-in-a-new-recruit-last-night."

Wanda groaned. "Another one?! God! Is he going to be Toad's replacement when I finally snap and kill him?"

Pietro laughed, somewhat nervously. "I-don't-think-so, sis."

"Darn. Well, who is it?"

"I-don't-know. Some-guy-from-Boston. I-didn't-go-with-them-to-pick-him-up."

Wanda shuddered. "He'd better not have an accent. I hate Boston accents." she unfastened her seat belt and opened the car door. Stepping out in the late-morning sun, she stretched her arms over her head, loosening her tight muscles. She yawned, thinking about how wonderful it would be to sleep in her own bed.

Pietro approached her with her luggage and tapped her on the shoulder. She dropped her arms and glared at him in annoyance. "What, you expect a lady to carry in her own bags?"

Pietro smirked. "Of course not. But you, Wanda, are no lady." he said slowly and articulately.

"YOU LITTLE-" she went to bash him on the head, but he dropped her bags and zipped away in a blink of an eye.

Todd hopped out of the room in excitement, giggling about how he got to see his 'precious flower' again. Lance tried to clean up the room a bit, since it was his fault it looked like an earthquake had hit them - literally. Fred, the large man, wandered off muttering something about baked goods. John looked out the large bay-window at the scene outside. A silver car pulled up to the house. The driverside door opened, and a thin man with white hair stepped out. Then the passenger door opened. John watched as one shapely leg popped out, then another, then a head of long black hair. Finally, the whole person was standing outside with her back to him, stretching out to her full height.

The white haired man appeared out of nowhere with an armload of luggage and tapped the woman on the shoulder. She turned and said something to him. He responded to her, and she scowled from behind her sunglasses.

John didn't get to see then end of the exchange because Lance pulled him away from the window and up a flight of stairs.

"Easy on the shirt, mate! It's the only one I got-"

"Your room is the one two doors down on the left, across from the bathroom."

John rolled his eyes. "Oh goody yay! I get me very own room?" he squealed sarcastically. "Back in Boston, I had me own apartment, mate." He looked down at his arm. "You can let go, y'know. I'm not gonna bugga' off. It's a bit far t'walk-"

"SUGAR PLUM!"

John and Lance heard Todd hopping across the wooden floor, followed by the voice of an annoyed woman. "Back off, Toad. I don't want to get funk on my new sweater."

"Oh, I know you missed me, babycakes! Gimme a kiss-"

There was an angry scream, a cry for help, and a loud crash.

Lance let go of John and bounded down the stairs. Feeling exceedingly curious, he followed closely behind him.

"Sweetie-pie? What'd you do that for?" Todd coughed up dust and spat out bits of plaster from the hole in the wall.

The woman sneered at him. "What did I tell you before I left, Toad?" She took off her sunglasses.

"That if I spoke to you, you'd kick my ass."

"That's right." she lifted her bags from the floor and carried them up the stairs, past Lance, who was gawking at the damage done to the front hall. She glanced at John, only for a brief moment.

His breath caught in his throat. It was like time slowed down before his very eyes.

She was beautiful. Her eyes like sapphire pools. They were eerily familiar. His dazed mind could only draw one conclusion. It was her! After five years, John knew she must've changed, but it was just so... surreal.

"Mind moving, pal?" Her voice was richer and more throaty, but it still had that essence that was undeniably hers.

John gaped at her. She didn't recognize him. Was he really that different?

"Wanda, this is the new guy." Lance stated.

She turned back to face him. She placed a hand on her hip and gave him a look of mock awe. "Oh! The new guy, huh? Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Guy. I'm Wanda Maximoff, a.k.a: The Scarlet Witch. I'm dead on my feet and would like nothing more than to go to bed and sleep for the next thirty-eight hours. So if you'd please get out of my way-" She pushed past him and continued up the stairs to the room at the end of the hall.

There was absolutely no doubt about it in John's mind. That was his Wanda.

Busy. That's what Wanda was going to be for the next few days. She had a ton of laundry to do. There was undoubtedly a bunch of her stuff missing from her room as well. Todd had the habit of going through her things when she was away for long periods of time. But there was always one thing he never touched.

She wrenched up one of the floorboards by her bed and slowly lowered her hands into the hole. She carefully extracted a cardboard box.

The flap on the top was labeled 'TREASURES' in black magic marker. Inside this box was all of Wanda's most precious things. She flipped the top open and did an inventory check.

A silver pendant from her brother. A bag of ball-bearings she found in her father's office. The newspaper clipping of Erik Lehnsherr's obituary, along with two pillar candles from the private memorial service-

Wanda pushed all of these things aside, so she could make room. Her hand brushed against the soft black fur of a teddy-bear in a Hallowe'en costume. A slight smile appeared on her face as she tugged the bear out of the rubble by its foot. Wanda replaced it with the bundle she had received from Bova, containing her mother's Tarot cards.

Wanda fell back on her bed. Her comfy, familiar bed. She held the bear out at arms length. It smiled dociley at her, it's little red cape hanging over her hand. She frowned. It always came back to this. Every time she had a bad night, or whenever she was under a lot of stress, Wanda would pull out the bear.

It was the only thing she owned that brought her any comfort. Not even her own brother could give her the consolation she got from squeezing the stuffed animal.

John.

She wanted to hate him. By all rights, she should! He had lied to her. He had kept her from knowing the truth. She wanted to forget all about him.

She wanted to pretend he never existed.

But not even the Scarlet Witch, and all the probability altering powers of the world could make that happen.

Wanda closed her eyes. She regretted yelling at him like that, but he did the unthinkable to her. Oh, the things she'd say to him if she ever saw his face again!

Oh the things she'd do...

"No!" Wanda chided herself, pulling the bear into her chest and rolling over to face the wall. "I'm not going to slip back into those stupid fantasies again. He's a jerk, and he's dead for all I care."

But try as she might to convince herself otherwise, Wanda missed him.

"John..."

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**As always, review out of the kindness of your hearts.**

**Money is good too.**

**But I won't get my hopes up.**


	4. Breaking the ice isn't good when walking...

**Hey all! I'm back! Folk Festival was great! I even had my very... fourth near-death experience! But I survived, and was able to finish this very very short chapter. I'm sorry for the shortness, but this is just to further the plot.**

**And I know I haven't been doing 'answering a viewer questions' thing lately, but there is one that I'd like to address right here and right now**

**TheDreamerLady: _you said you like jonda, right? cause if you do you sure have a weird way of showing it... coughscamcough. gr I was so horrorable sad-afided when I read it... I was out for blood... I though Mystique had made you write stuff... and now I'm reading the sequel... this had better have better jonda... please?_**

**Yes, I love Jonda. It's the shpizzlespits! But I also like suspense and pissing off my readers with it [evil grinning]. Yes, this story will make up for all the horrible stuff I pulled in Scam. I'm thinking several chapters of straight Jonda fluffishness. But not really fluff, because fluff and jonda don't really go together. Believe me, John and Wanda would never have one of those relationships. Theirs would be a union full of bickering and heated arguments. But that's just what they are - intense.**

**Also, I don't really like those stories where the two main characters get together right away and have this wonderful happily-ever-after endings. Couldja tell?**

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaiming applies. Get over it!**

* * *

She was in the same house as him. John had been pacing the floor of his new room for hours, trying to figure out how he was going to deal with this situation. Wanda was only a few doors away, probably still sleeping. He remembered from experience, that Wanda was a very heavy sleeper when she was exhausted.

HE certainly couldn't get to sleep! John ran his clenched fingers through his hair, almost tempted to tear it out. Oh God. Her was nervous.

Damn Mystique! This was her doing.

He sat down on his bed, hanging his head between his knees. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her smooth skin. Her long legs. Her mature figure - John stopped there, before he lost all clear thought completely. Fate was cruel. He was so incredibly close to her, but she probably still hated him.

If she could remember who he was, at least.

Well, it was settled then! John would scarper. Before any damage could be done, to him or to Wanda, he'd be gone. All he had with him were the clothes on his back and his wallet. Easy load - good for a quick and clean escape.

He was almost out the door, when a low, feminine voice spoke up from beside him. "Leaving already? New-Guy?"

John turned around slowly. He bit down on his lower lip. The words 'oh' and 'Hell' kept repeating in his head. She was watching him from the kitchen. "I thi-" he coughed, then spoke again. This time, covering his Australian accent. "I think I left the water running in me- er, my apartment. I was just gonna check-"

Wanda gave a short laugh. "Good one. But I wouldn't worry about it. Mystique doesn't leave loose ends. Ever." She took in a drag from the cigarette she held in her hand, then stabbed it out in the ashtray on the table. "She wants you here. If you leave, she'll just go after you."

"Thanks for the tip." He said quickly, not bothering with his accent and getting eager to bolt out the door. This was just WAY too close for comfort, but there was still a chance for him to get away.

"Have we met before?" She asked suddenly. "You look really familiar."

Luckily, for John, he was quick under pressure. "That guy from that movie? No, sorry. I get that a lot-"

"No, wait!" Wanda got up from the table and approached him. "I could swear I've seen you somewhere..." She reached up and softly touched his cheek.

John had never felt so excited or so scared in his entire life. Before he could order his body to do otherwise, he grabbed Wanda's hand and held it against his face. He expected her to pull away, or respond violently. But she didn't. She only stared at him. That same intense cerulean gaze he had the privilege of experiencing five years previously. Oh how he missed this. The softness of her skin. The smell of her hair. The wordsmith wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as he could.

But the moment did as a moment would do. It passed.

And in a way the John did not find favourable in the least.

"Already scammin' on my woman?!" Todd had hopped in between them. "You ain't no saint NOTHIN', yo!"

John tried to cover his mouth, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

"Saint?" Wanda shot the novelist a questioning glare.

"Yeah, that's his name, sugar-plum. It's Saint Joe or somethin'."

He wished Hell would open up and engulf him in flames. At least then, he'd have a bit of an advantage.

"John?" Wanda looked to Todd for the answer.

He snapped his webbed fingers. "Yeah! That's it. Saint John!" He smiled proudly, now that Wanda was paying attention to him without threat to his life. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

"Small world." Wanda huffed.

"Why, you know him?" Todd asked with a hint of panic in his voice.

Wanda looked at John as if he was able to explain the whole situation. He felt his heart break all over again as she answered, "I thought I did."

"I was so BLOODY close! How the fuck am I supposed to deal with this now?!" John ranted to his empty bedroom. Much to his surprise, it answered back.

"Do what I do, man. Keep dreamin', and learn how to dodge them hex-thingies."

John jumped and nearly whacked his head on the hanging lamp. He spun around and met with a crouching Todd. "Oh, it's just you." He grumbled. "Well, what do ya want? Come to gloat?"

Todd let himself in and perched on John's bed. "Nothin' doin', man. The way I see it, we're in the same boat-"

John cut him off with a sharp laugh. "Yeah, right. You're funny, mate!"

"I'm serious!"

"Well, at least she's still willing t'talk to you."

Todd simply shrugged. "Look, I don't know what went down with you two, but she don't seem to like you at all."

"How bloody observant of you." John scoffed again. "Ever read 'A Father's Pride' by J.A. Micheals?"

Todd shook his head. "Don't do much readin'."

"Never mind, then."

Todd smirked to himself in a very Toddish way. It felt good, in a very sadistic and selfish way, to know that there was another guy on Wanda's 'Scourge of the Universe' list. And from the looks of things, Saint Jim rated higher than him on the hate-o-meter.

John was paranoid enough, without someone grinning at him. "What are you smiling about?!"

"Mystique wants to see us in the living room." He replied, not giving John his real reasons.

John 'harumph'ed, and waved Todd off. "Sod off, I'll be down in a few minutes. Don't wait up for me."

"Brotherhood-"

John winced at the icy glare Wanda shot him as he entered the room.

Mystique continued her important speech. "-The time has come to set the next phase of our plans in motion.

"As I'm sure that you've done nothing but watch cartoons," she shot a glare at Todd and Pietro, "then I'll have to update you on the recent developments in politics. There is a gathering in Washington. All US Senator's will be attending, as well as their friends and family. And as you may know," her body morphed from her sleek blue self, into a silver-haired woman in dark blue business attire and square-rimmed glasses, "I have been 'assisting' our very own Senator Kelly for the past year and a half."

Pietro, who was sitting on the couch with his arm draped lazily over his twin's shoulder, was the only one with the audacity to interrupt her. "Yeah? So what does this have to do with us?"

Wanda smacked her brother upside the head. "Idiot!" she hissed.

"What?!"

She momentarily looked like she was going to explain it to him, threw up her arms in frustration, 'humph'ed, and kept her tirade to herself.

Mystique seemed amused by the twins' interaction. "Quite." she laughed. "As a matter of fact, Quicksilver, you will be playing an integral role in this ploy." her body changed back to its original form again. "You, The Scarlet Witch, Avalanche," Mystique pointed to the red-haired pyrokinetic that still stood by the doorway, "and Pyro will be joining me."

Pyro found himself disliking Mystique more and more as she gave the team her toothy smile.

It was Todd's turn to interrupt. He adjusted himself in his crouching position atop the television. "What about Freddy and me, yo? What're we s'posed t'do? Why ain't we invited to the party?"

Mystique's lower eyelid twitched comically at the amphibious man's complaint. "You see, Toad, I want us to remain as inconspicuous as possible." her voice grew louder as she went on. "And you and the Blob have a harder time disguising your mutations than the others. I would be an IDIOT to bring you along if I want to keep a low profile!"

Todd shrank back at Mystique's shouting. He really didn't like it when she yelled at him. She was a first class scary bitch - even more so than Wanda.

"Anyway." Mystique growled, calming down from her shouting fit. "I want the four of you to rest up and be ready to leave in the morning. Pyro," she turned to him, a hand resting semi-seductively on her hip. "All of your things are out on the front porch. Don't worry about packing, since it's already been done for you."

Wanda glared at the teddy bear that now lay face down inside her suitcase. "Damn you." she accused in a venomous hiss. "Damn you for showing up again!" she slammed the lid down and snapped the clasps shut. She had just finished packing enough books and clothes for a week, as Mystique had instructed them. The Scarlet Witch threw herself onto her bed. Why did that jackass have to show up?! Why couldn't he have stayed where he was - far away from her?! No, he just had to waltz back into her life and complicate things!

She had been quite content with pining for the good ol' days every once and a while. She didn't want him back for REAL. Wanda let out another frustrated scream, that was muffled by her pressing her pillow into her face. "They hate me." Wanda muttered to her ceiling. "The Fates hate me, and want me to suffer for all the crap I pulled in my past lives. They must be punishing me for being the daughter of a genocidal maniac. No, they did that already; they made me related to Pietro."

John glanced at what he knew was Wanda's bedroom door as he walked by. He wondered what she was doing at that moment. Probably plotting his violent and bloody death. He was still having to deal with his edgy nerves. Mystique had mentioned that this mission could last up to a week, if not longer. A whole week with Wanda Maximoff. Well, it might not be so bad. John already knew that he wouldn't get along with Pietro. That Lance guy was going to be there. He seemed like a fairly decent chap. John wouldn't mind being his drinking pal.

He heard a dull thud come from inside the room. John hurried his pace and made it to his room sooner than he planned, which had been an amazing feat, since he had been lugging a pair of very large and heavy duffle bags, his briefcase, and a grocery store bag so full of his CD's, it was almost bursting - which he had been clutching in his teeth. Anyway, the last thing he wanted was for Wanda to catch him at a moment when he was completely unprepared to defend himself.

John dumped the contents of the duffle bags all over his floor and began sorting through all the clothes, pulling out all the articles he'd be taking to Washington with him. He was relieved to find that Mystique had remembered his laptop. Of course, he'd have to change all the passwords on it as a precaution; incase the devious shapeshifter had decided to do a bit of snooping. He'd also have to call Mr. Jameson to tell him not to try to contact him for the next few weeks.

This upcoming trip was promising to be very interesting indeed.

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**Friends read...**

**Awesome friends review!**


	5. Pietro is so full of his fine self

**I'm so sorry for the shortness and the crappiness of the last chapter. I know a few of you expressed some displeasure with the lack of reactions and emotions from the characters. I'm sooooo sorry. My brain was constipated (lovely imagery, if I do say so myself), and I just wanted that chapter to go away. However, I couldn't just have them magically appear in Washington. That would be unprofessional and stoopid.**

**Then again, I am unprofessional and stoopid...**

**Shut up, Amieva.**

**Hopefully, this chapter makes up for it. And the speed of the update as well, because I was so motivated by your reviews and my need to uncrapify this story. Don't expect this to happen often. I may go back and redo chapter 4 too [blech].**

**Streetwise Girl: To answer your riddle, the first one is the awesomer friend, for being honest. But he's also the friend to get decked and uninvited to my birthday party.**

**Scarlet Sapphire: WHAT?! No- Bu- Wha?! [sniffles] You're letting it go? That makes me sad... but you have lotsa other stories for me to read, so I guess that's good. I haven't dropped Living Myths. It's just on vacation for now. I'll probably get back into it when school starts again, since I'll be using it to avoid homework. Most of my inspiration comes from procrastinating my school work. Er... or causes it... Well, either way.**

**Petra Delling: Please bare with me. I appreciate your review very very much. I'm learning how to accept constructive critisism better. And it was actually your review that helped motivate me a lot. [glomps Petra] You're one of my new favourite people!**

**Zero-Vision: Same thing.**

**TheDreamerLady: Look what you started! Now I'm responding again! LoL! Oh, I'm sorry to hear about your summer ending. I have another week of holidays, but I'll be working for a majority of it. And that's the first time anyone has ever said something I've done calmed them down... I usually have the opposite effect on peoples' nerves. Hmm... I might be losing my edge...**

**Disclaimer: It was never there in the first place. [is referring to Amieva's 'edge']**

**All disclaimers will be hunted down and shot.**

* * *

Luckily for St. John Allerdyce, Wanda Maximoff had opted to try the 'ignore it long enough, and it might go away' tactic. She hadn't spoken a word to him, nor spared him a passing glance all day. And that was causing John some anxiety, since he believed that she was merely biding her time until the moment was right for her to strike. This passive resistance thing wasn't her style at all.

Then again, Wanda had changed a lot since he last saw her. He wasn't sure he liked her smoking. It was a deadly habit, and would stain her beautiful smile. But he couldn't deny that she looked damn sexy with wisps of smoke dancing about her. He'd have to remember that when he started his next novel.

Wanda was finding it hard to ignore John at the moment. He was sitting across from her in the car, and joking with Lance. She she stabbed her cigarette butt out in the ashtray and frowned when she discovered that it had been her last one. Now she didn't have something to distract her from the hearty laughter coming from the seat across from her. John's good mood was contagious. She remembered how he could light up the most terrible of situations, just by being there. Wanda turned up the volume on the radio in order to drown out his voice.

He got the message. John glared at Wanda's hand as the music playing in the background got louder and interrupted his joke. In response, he leaned over the seat and turned it down again. He smirked in amusement when Wanda jumped slightly as his shoulder brushed against hers. "Gimme a minute, doll. Then you c'n get back to ya country marathon."

Oh how she wished her eyes could literally shoot daggers. "Whatever..." she grumbled, and contented herself by staring out the window. Now she wished she hadn't stuffed her bag with her book into the trunk.

John defeated the urge to kiss her cheek before sitting back beside Lance, who was acting as a barrier between him and Pietro. The limo had been designed to be spacious, for maybe two or three passengers. But there was five of them.

Lance couldn't remember a time when he had actually enjoyed himself without alcohol, marijuana, a dirty magazine or the combination of two to all three. John was a funny guy. He didn't understand why Wanda was being so cold toward him. Then again, Wanda was just cold in general. "Yeah, so the guy wished for a million bucks, then what?"

John's attention was pulled away from Wanda, and back to the joke he was so rudely interrupted from finishing. He was about to get around to the punch line when the limo came to a stop outside an enormous, five-star hotel. "I'll tell ya the rest later, mate." he answered distractedly as he stared out the window in awe. The door opened suddenly, and Lance was the first to get out of the car. John wondered at what in the Hell Alvers was up to, holding his hand out like that, seemingly for Wanda to take. But she didn't take it. Instead, Mystique, who was in the form of the silver-haired woman in business attire, took his hand and stepped gracefully onto the concrete. She then linked arms with him, and proceeded toward the front doors of the Hotel.

Pietro was the next one out of the car. He smirked at the attention that he was immediately drawing from the surrounding bystanders. Yes, Pietro Maximoff in Gucci was a beautiful thing.

Pietro Maximoff in anything was a beautiful thing.

Pietro Maximoff in nothing was-

Getting back on track!

That left Wanda and John alone in the car, with the passenger door wide open. Wanda stared at him, as if she was expecting him to do something. He stared back at her with his most confused look. She finally groaned and snapped, "Aren't you going to get out?!"

"Ladies first, doll!" he snapped back. He didn't understand why he felt so angry all of a sudden. Probably from being yelled at for no reason.

And they sat there in silence for a moment. Neither one was backing down. Finally, Wanda got fed up with this childishness, and went to the door. However, John felt it was time to be the more mature one at the same time, and they very nearly collided with each other. More glaring ensued. In the end, he leaned back and waited for Wanda to make her exit, then followed behind her, being sure to keep a distance.

The hotel couldn't have been more lavish without looking ridiculously overdone. It looked... classy. That was the only word that came to mind when one looked around the lobby. Not a statue, fountain, or potted fern was out of place.

This was so much better than spending another night at the dump the Brotherhood called 'Home'.

Mystique was waiting for the rest of her group at the front desk, and was talking to the entranced man behind the computer. "Yes, that's three suites, under Alicia Darkraven. One single, the other two honeymoon." he said with a hint of jealousy in his voice. He was giving a sideways look at Lance, who had his arm draped around 'Alicia's' waist. Three guesses as to whom Lance was playing, and the first two don't count. He was posing as Alicia's young, olive-skined, Grecaen lover. "So, there's the key to your suite, Ms. Darkraven." the man at the front desk handed the key-card to Lance, then turned to Pietro. "And here's your key, Mr. Darkraven."

By the time Pietro had his key-card, and was headed for the elevator, John and Wanda were standing at opposite sides of the computer. "And your key, Mister and Missus St. Johnston." The same man handed a key-card to John.

Wanda near but exploded. "What?! I'm not-!"

John grabbed her hand, and pulled her into a casual embrace. "Easy now, dear. Ya don't need to yell at the man. He 'asn't done anythin'." John winked to her, and watched as her face went a deep shade of red. She stomped on his foot, with the heel of her stilletto digging into his toes. He winced and turned to the man behind the desk, who seemed frightened of the young woman's shortening fuse. "Newly weds." he grunted through clenched teeth. "She just 'asn't got quite used t'people callin' her by that name."

And with that, he hurried to lead Wanda away from the public area before she caused an unnatural disaster. Fortunately, an empty elevator stood open, and waiting for passengers. John pushed Wanda into the carriage and leapt in after her. He pressed the button that would close the door before anyone could join them. It wasn't until after they started ascending to their floor did John realize the mortal danger he had thrown himself into.

Wanda finally burst, causing the buttons and lights on the control panel to blink uncontrollably. "I DON'T BELIEVE HER!!!" she screamed.

John watched the buttons warily, trying to think of how he could calm her down long enough to let them arrive safely at their floor. "It's kinda funny, ain't it?"

Wanda rounded on him, her hands glowing with that familiar aura that John didn't care to familiarize himself with any further. "NO! It ISN'T funny at ALL!" she seethed. "I'm not laughing!"

At least she hadn't shot one of those voodoo thingymajigums at him. "It could be worse-"

As it turned out, she was just gathering energy. She threw him into the wall of the elevator. "How the FUCK could it be worse?!"

"You could break the elevator and spend the next four hours alone with me until the maintenance people fix the damage." he grunted.

Wanda seemed to consider his statement. She released him and let him drop to the floor, as well as calm her raging powers. "I hate you."

John smirked to himself as he dusted off the front of his shirt. Her voice at least was softer. And the lights stopped blinking as crazily. The elevator dinged, and the door opened to the main hall of their floor. Lance, Mystique and Pietro were waiting for them.

Mystique, who was still disguised as 'Alicia', greeted the rest of her team with a devious smile. "All present and in one piece." she directed her smile toward John and Wanda. "I'm impressed."

John saw Wanda roll her eyes and look away from the rest of the group.

"Avalanche and I will be sharing the room at the end of the hall. Quicksilver is in the suite behind us. Scarlet Witch and Pyro, you will be in the one down there, number 6.

"Lance and I are together in this little charade. Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch are my son and daughter. Pyro, you are my son-in-law."

"Yeah, we kinda got the idea already." John muttered while rubbing the back of his head. He hoped he didn't have a concussion.

Other than swearing their undying loyalty to Mystique (figuratively speaking), the Brotherhood was free to do whatever they wanted while in Washington. As long as they were able to do their part of the mission to the best of their ability when the time came. Pietro immediately took off to the nearest club, and made it clear that he didn't want anyone to follow him. Mystique had to leave because Senator Kelly was going to make a public appearance, and as his assistant, she had to be there with him. She sent Lance on an errand. This inconveniently left the 'newly weds' alone in their suite.

The first thing Wanda did was carry all of her luggage into the bedroom, and slam the door shut. The doors were made of glass, so she pulled the drapes over them as well. "You're sleeping on the couch!" she called.

John stood in the main room for a moment and considered his new surroundings. He thought about turning on the television, when Wanda burst out of the bedroom again and made a beeline for the minibar.

If Mystique was going to put her through this shit, she was going to take advantage of every access expense possible. She pulled out little bottles of rum, whiskey, vodka, brandy, wine, and every other liquor the hotel stocked for its guests. "Sake, eh?" she muttered, reading the label of a small bottle.

"Uh, Wanda? What are ya doin'?"

She shot her 'husband' a venomous look, as if addressing her was a deadly sin. "I plan on getting totally shit-faced, and maybe pass out for the next week. Does that sound good to you?!"

John shrugged. "Sounds like an awful waste of time t'me-"

But she didn't hear him, because Wanda was on the phone with room service, and ordering a dinner of filet-mignon, and lobster. She finished the order with two bottles of the hotel's most ridiculously overpriced champagne. "And if you manage to get it up here in the next thirty minutes, I'll put a really big tip on the tab." she slammed the receiver of the phone down triumphantly, picked up her collection of bottles, and went back the the bedroom.

"I'm telling you, Alicia, you bringing your family is GREAT. Though I can't shake the feeling that Greek boyfriend of yours is using you." Senator Kelly said quietly to his personal assistant at dinner.

Mystique laughed charitably. "On the contrary, Edward. Dominic is an innocent boy."

Mrs. Kelly gave Alicia a sideways glance. She never trusted the woman. Ever since her husband hired Ms. Darkraven, Mrs. Kelly couldn't help the unease she felt whenever she was around. "Actually, Edward has a good point, Alicia. Dominic is young enough to be your son."

'How little you know.' Mystique thought in amusement. "Yes, but even he has a hard time keeping up with me. Anyway, enough about my personal life. Lets discuss business."

Senator Edward Kelly chuckled. "That why I like you, Alicia. You're always interested in my next move." he made a point of looking directly at his wife as he spoke these words of praise. Mrs. Kelly rolled her eyes and continued to stab at her roast beef. "Yes, my next move. I will be making an appearance in a few of the local high schools. Not to mention, my preparations for the debate on Mutant Registration. If I can get the truth about those freaks out, I'll make a killing in the poles!"

If Mystique hadn't been such a wonderful actress, she would have leapt over the table and strangled the insolent senator to death with her own blue hands. But she had to keep up appearances for now. Alicia nodded and smiled. "Very good, sir. I'm looking forward to the public's reaction. A killing of this size is all we need."

Lance snooped around the floor that Senator Kelly and his family was staying on. He was scoping out the perimeter to find out how heavily secured the place was. This whole espionage thing wasn't his favourite. Lance would much rather make the ground shake, and take advantage of the confusion.

A bellhop had been trailing him, however. "Can I help you with something, sir?"

Lance stared down the adolescent with his menacing brown eyes. "Get lost, kid! Mind your own business!" he barked, imitating his grandfather's thick Greek accent he so fondly remembered.

The boy had the desired reaction, and yelped as he scampered away.

Pietro was having a slow night by his standards. He had been at that club for less than an hour, and he only got eight phone numbers. If things didn't pick up soon, he was just going to go back to the hotel, and maybe harass Pyro. The thought of doing so brightened his mood a bit. If there was one thing Pietro enjoyed, aside from being really fast and good looking, it was reminding people of just how pathetic they are. He downed his fourth shot with amazing speed, the bartender blinked and missed it. Pietro tossed some change onto the counter and headed for the exit. He was merrily on his way when a head of strawberry-blonde hair caught his attention.

She was gorgeous! She was almost as perfect as him!

Pietro still had mixed feelings about this.

The strawberry blonde seemed to have noticed him and was waving him over to her table.

Harassing Pyro could wait a few hours.

She had a bunch of good looking friends with her.

Oh Hell, he'd leave the guy alone for the night.

John was growing concerned when Wanda had been alone in the bedroom with all that alcohol for almost half an hour. He debated knocking on the door. However, the result in doing so would be broken glass lodged in his body, and that was the last thing he needed.

His raised fist hovered over the door when he heard a knocking coming from behind him. He jumped, thinking maybe a ghost or a spook was the cause of the noise. That would be JUST great! A haunted hotel suite with a drunk woman that hated him.

"Room Service." called a muffled voice.

It was that dinner Wanda had ordered. John rolled his eyes and went to relieve the bellhop of their burden.

The little French steaks smelled really good. After the young man left and John closed the door, he called over his shoulder, "Wanda, your food's here!"

When no reply came, John grew really concerned. He actually gulped down the lump in his throat and knocked on the door. "Wanda? You okay?"

Slowly, and very carefully, John turned the latch on the doors and opened them. The light beside the bed was still on, shining on a mess of unopened bottles. Wanda was sleeping atop the blankets with a book clutched loosely in her fingers. Her head was turned to the side, though she lay on her back. Her raven tendrils splayed across the feather pillow like strands of silk. John noted from her steady breathing, that she was deep asleep. "Well, that didn't take long at all." he mused. He noticed a couple of bottles separate from the rest. They were empty. "It didn't take much either."

John lifted her upper body easily and pulled the blankets out from under her. Then he lifted her legs so that he could free the sheets completely. He pulled the novel out of her hand and took a quick glance at the cover. 'Love's Scorn' by J.A Micheals. John was flattered, as well as surprised by Wanda's reading material.

He looked around for a place to put the book, since the bedside table was inhabited by a party tiny of alcoholic beverages. He didn't see the open suitcase until he nearly tripped and died over it. John tucked Wanda securely into her bed before kneeling to the floor to put the book in the case. What he found in the case caused him to freeze. It was the teddy bear he gave her five years ago.

She still had it.

There were no signs of ripping, stabbing or ceremonial voodoo. It was surprisingly undamaged, though it looked well loved. Its fur was just a little rougher than when it was brand new.

But why did she still have it?

She hated him. She wanted him gone. Wanda had made it a point to show him how displeased she was with this whole arrangement.

But why did she bring it with her?

John looked at Wanda's sleeping face, as if doing so would answer his sudden wave of questions. Somewhere deep down in her hardened heart, was she still holding onto feelings for him?

"He's on the couch..."

That was another one of the things about Wanda John remembered. Her sleep talking. He wondered if maybe he could have a conversation with her subconscious. He didn't know if it'd work for real, but he had seen it done on a television program. The detective talked to a witness to a major murder and cracked the case by what the witness told him in his sleep.

"Who's on the couch?" he asked softly.

"Him."

"Who is him?"

"The guy in the fire. He's on the couch."

She was definitely dreaming, or something. "Why is he on the couch?"

Wanda rolled over slightly. "We had a fight."

John frowned. "What did you fight about."

"He lied to me."

"Maybe he's sorry for lying to you. Would you listen to him if he apologized?"

Wanda's face scrunched up. "I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"I don't want to love him anymore."

John's heart skipped. "Y-you love him?" he asked, lightly touching her shoulder.

"I don't want to get hurt." Wanda turned away from his touch and curled into a fetal position, thus ending the conversation.

"I wouldn't do that twice, luv." John looked at the innocent stuffed animal in his hand, then at Wanda's back. He got up from the floor, flicked the reading lamp off, and tossed the bear onto the bed on his way out. He had a lot to think about. He had been so close to getting over her, but this just opened a whole new can of worms. He still had a chance to win her back.

But he needed to repair her trust in him first. And knowing Wanda, that'd be near impossible. She was an expert on holding grudges.

It would be dangerous, possibly deadly, but St. John Allerdyce felt that he was up to the challenge. It'd be a lot like playing with fire. Except this fire fought back on its own. On second thought, that wasn't the best analogy to give this situation. He didn't have time to dwell on that! He needed to formulate a plan.

* * *

**Love you forever!**


End file.
